


Victory Day

by KateKintail



Series: The Great Beyond [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though they’re in Romania, Neville still remembers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victory Day

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters or world. I don’t make any money from this. 
> 
> Prompt: outdoor sex  
> Written for the May Madness story-a-day challenge 2012 on LiveJournal/InsaneJournal

When the owl arrived at three-thirty in the morning, Charlie considered throwing his boot at it. He’d just been up for two days straight looking after a newborn ironbelly that had been touch-and-go since birth. Neville had been wonderful, bringing him and the other dragon keepers meals, snacks, and coffee all through the day and night. And when the dragon finally stabilized and Charlie could lurch home, Neville left his plants at once to tuck him into bed. He’d been asleep for almost eleven hours straight, but he hadn’t wanted to be woken by a hooting owl crashing through his window.   
  
Charlie moaned and Neville jumped up to take care of it. Falling back to sleep right away, Charlie missed Neville’s squeal of excitement.   
  
*  
  
“Don’t you have to work today?” Charlie asked as Neville served him breakfast at ten in the morning.   
  
“Not today. Today is special. I asked for it off ages ago.” He shoveled five strips of bacon onto Charlie’s plate and popped one into his mouth. “Luckily, the plants I ordered came just in time as well.”  
  
Charlie popped a tomato into his mouth and cocked his head. “Is that what the owl brought at God awful o’clock this morning?”   
  
With a nod, Neville answered, “Yep. There’s a spot of land I’m allowed to plant on for a personal garden and the plants are going straight there later today. It’s a bit out of the way, a bit of a walk. I know you’re probably still tired out, but it would mean a lot if you joined me.” Neville added, “I’ll put together a picnic basket and we can make a trip out of it. What do you say?”  
  
Charlie lifted one of his pieces of bacon. “I say yes.”  
  
Neville grinned and took one of his pieces, clicking them together. “Cheers. Ta.”  
  
*  
  
Three times, Charlie asked for the map, not entirely sure they were still walking in the right direction. But they were, each time. Directional spells and a good memory were to thank for that. And before the sun was too far from the middle of the sky, they arrived at the little patch of ground.   
  
Neville set his bundle down on the ground and rested his tools beside them. He untied the bundle and flipped open the container. His grin at the contents made Charlie smile. Charlie put the picnic basket down and knelt beside Neville. “So what are these?”   
  
“Poppies.” Neville reached in and brought out a startlingly red flower with a dark brown-black center. “Back in England, poppies are used to commemorate soldiers who have died in war. They’re made into wreaths and laid on war memorials or planted on graves or worn for remembrance. So I thought today I’d plant some to remember…” He broke off, voice cracking, breath hitching.  
  
In all the drama with the dragon youngling, Charlie had lost all track of the date. Now he realized that it was May 2nd. He slid his arm around Neville and started to say something, but for as strong as he was, he couldn’t get any words past the huge lump in his throat. And when he reached for the spade, he realized his vision had gone blurry from tears.   
  
Neville pulled Charlie to him and Charlie rested his forehead on Neville’s shoulder. Neville’s hand rubbed up and down Charlie’s back but all Charlie could think about was Fred’s lifeless body lying on the floor of the Great Hall, surrounded by the bodies of all the others they’d lost. Some had been Aurors, some had been in the order. But some had just been kids. And none of them had really been soldiers. At the same time, though, they were all soldiers. Neville clutched at Charlie, and Charlie knew he was crying as well.   
  
Charlie didn’t know how long they stayed like that. The sun wasn’t too far moved, but his eyes felt tired and he felt thirsty. He broke away and reached for the picnic basket. There was a thermos of lemonade, and he took a few hearty gulps of it before handing it to Neville, who did the same.   
  
They didn’t say a word. They drank and nibbled sandwiches until they felt a little more like themselves. Then they picked up the tools and started digging. Two dozen poppies went into two dozen holes, covering the ground in a sea of red and black. They looked liked eyes. They looked like spilled blood.   
  
Sweaty from the work, Neville pulled off his shirt and wiped his dirty hands and face on it. He looked at Charlie and smiled a small smile. “Thank you for helping.”   
  
Charlie nodded, still not able to say anything. He’d shed tears on the ground, watering a few of the flowers. But now that the work was done, they threatened to return in earnest. He held his arm out to Neville, biting his lip, holding his breath.  
  
Neville came to him with a kiss and a hug. Charlie wrapped his arms around Neville and Neville stroked the back of his head. When they kissed again, it was deeper, stronger. Neville’s tongue was hesitant, not sure it was safe to venture in. So Charlie tilted his head, opened his mouth, and lapped at Neville’s lips. Neville kissed back, his tongue meeting Charlie’s in a sensual, reassuring kiss.   
  
And that was all it took. They shed their clothes and spilled their seed on the rest of the plot of land set aside for Neville’s use.   
  
*  
  
The sun was starting to dip below the line of trees when they woke, the picnic blanket draped over them and the empty thermos sitting nearby. “We should pack up and head back before it gets too dark,” Neville said, knowing that it wasn’t safe to walk through the reserve after sundown. The dragons that were nocturnal were also pretty territorial.   
  
Charlie nodded and rounded up their clothing and tools. Just before they were about to head out, he heard the hoot of an owl. Usually the owls stuck to the residences and buildings, not wanting to become a dragon’s meal. But this one was bold and fearless, flying straight at them despite the dragons flying free in the distance.   
  
It dropped a letter at Charlie’s feet and kept going, not waiting to take a reply back. Sure it wasn’t more flowers to plant, Charlie picked it up and opened it. He read the first few words and let out a shout that made Neville jump.   
  
“What? Who is it from?”  
  
His face bright, Charlie shook the paper at Neville. “Bill—“ He broke off, clearing his throat, realizing he hadn’t really used it all afternoon. “I’m an uncle, Nev. Bill and Fleur’s baby was just born. A little girl. Look. I’m an uncle!” He was practically jumping with excitement.  
  
Neville took the letter and read it, a wide grin on his face. “They named her Victoire. That’s so beautiful.”  
  
“And appropriate. Born on May 2nd.”  
  
Neville nodded. “May 2nd.”   
  
Charlie glanced back at the poppies. Now they looked bright. They looked alive.


End file.
